Content warning for cissexism/transphobia and deadnaming
Alive
By: Aviantei
29 mph
I picked out two hours because that was the most I could see Nate and Caleb staying away for, but now it feels like way too much time. Dad and I both know that I'm not there on my own to casually chat, but that's what we end up doing anyway. Nate and Caleb are much more likely to call me on their own, while Dad is much happier with the occasional check in and hearing about my wellbeing from the grapevine, so it's not often that we have a lot of opportunities to just chat, though.
So we chat.
And wait.
And dance around the real problem until—
"Dad, when are you planning on retiring?"
Once I get all the possible distractions out of the way, I push the question out before he can divert the topic any further. Dad isn't the type to listen to music or watch TV while others are talking to him, and the room falls silent as soon as I ask. Dad runs a hand through his hair and gives me that half-smile he does whenever he knows us kids won't like what he's saying. He used to give Mom that look all the time before heading out for a dangerous investigation.
"We've already talked about this, Kirsten," he says, voice as calm as ever. "I'm not old enough that I gotta give in and retire just yet."
"The last time we talked about this was three years ago." When he had his first heart attack, when the doctors first advised him to take it easy, when I had just gotten enough money under me that supporting him would've barely cost me a thing. I clench my hands into fists, fingers rubbing against the rough fabric of my jeans. "I don't know if you've noticed, but this isn't about you being too old. It's about your health being at risk."
Dad crosses his arms; as much as he liked to joke that we inherited our stubbornness from Mom, there's no denying that one was a combined effort of genetics. "In my line of work, being at risk is normal, Kirsten. You know that. I can't just back out since—"
"Except this is a completely different type of risk, and you can just stop." There's an extra edge to my voice, one that I try to pretend is more fueled by anger than stress and sadness. I lock eyes with Dad, taking advantage of the fact that he's supposed to stay rested in his hospital bed. "Every time you have a heart attack, you increase your chances for another one, and someday you might not be lucky enough to pull through it. I know you like being able to support Caleb and yourself, but you don't need to worry about that. I've managed to save up even more money than before. I can take care of you, help pay for Caleb and Nate, everything."
I catch the traces of a grimace before Dad hardens his expression. "I appreciate the offer, but that doesn't sit right having to rely on my kids like that. I'm not at the point where I need you to take care of me just yet."
Frustrated, I toss my arms up in the air. "Fine, then don't retire! Just change jobs so you're not in such a high-stress environment that I don't have to worry about you disappearing while I'm on the opposite end of the country!" Maybe that's a cheap shot, considering that I'm the one who chose to move, but I don't care. "I don't want to lose you, Dad. It was hard enough when Mom died, and I don't want to go through that again."
"Hey now." Dad stretches a hand out to me, and I let him wind his thick fingers around mine, even though it's not going to change anything. Even though our palms aren't too different in size anymore, I feel so small. "I'm not gonna go anywhere on you kids. You know that."
"No, you don't know that." Why is it, that no matter how many times I say it, he just doesn't get it. "Your body's not going to care what you think about sticking around if you don't take care of it. Even I know better than that." For all the stupid risks I've taken, I at least know when to back off when I'm out of my league. Why can't Dad recognize the same and stop this? "I would love to believe that we can keep going on like usual without any problems, but this is the second time. What do you plan to do if the next one comes closer? What if you don't have help around?"
"Kirsten," Dad says, with that tone in his voice—the one he always used whenever I had my wild streak in high school and came home constantly in trouble. "I know this is tough on you, but my whole life has been this job. It's how I met your mother and it's how I provided for you all, no matter what we went through." I grind my teeth together to keep the curses from spilling out. "I know you could take care of me and the boys without any trouble, and I appreciate it. But do you think you would just hop on the straight and narrow just because of some health complications? Even with all the crazy stuff you do?"
He tries to rub his thumb over my palm, but I snatch my hand back, not wanting to get lulled into his rhythm. I backed down the last time he said these things, but that was then, when the heart trouble seemed like a fluke, brought on by a high-tension job. He said that it wouldn't have happened otherwise, and I believed it.
Nate, Caleb, and I all believed it.
We didn't want to accept the truth.
And that denial just put us back where we started—
But he has a point. Would you back down from thrill seeking if your health got in the way? Probably not. What right do you have to lecture him when you're the exact same way?
No, no, that doesn't matter! There's nothing wrong with me; he's just deflecting. Don't get distracted by all that. Your job is to keep Dad safe, and to protect Caleb and Nate along with it. Nothing else matters. Besides, if you have the money to support them, there's no sense in Dad not taking the support—
I steel myself and level Dad in a hard stare, trying to replicate the look he used to give us kids whenever we broke the rules. He could never keep it up for long, especially when it came to Caleb, but I have to hope that I have better endurance than him on that front. "Even if I wouldn't choose to step down on my own," I say, running over his proposed scenario in my head, "I'm certain that Alexander wouldn't let me do something so stupid. Because he cares about me. And because I love you, Dad, I can't let you keep doing this to yourself, so please just retire. Or change departments. Get out of the field. Anything so you're not turning yourself into a ticking time bomb anymore. Please."
Unlike Nate in his younger, I never got too behind the "tear up and gain sympathy points" strategy, but that doesn't stop the sting of crying from battering my eyes. Funny, how even after being on the verge of a panic attack on a plane for five hours, I still have some tears left in me. Letting out a frustrated groan, I try to scrub the offending drops away, and Dad furrows his brow, mouth open like he's about to respond.
Except instead of the sound of his voice there's a shout from the hallway.
Dad's instincts are a little more refined than mine are, and he jumps to the ready first—though jumps is a relative term, seeing as he's still hooked up to monitors and can't move much further than his hospital bed, not to mention the hand that goes for his police firearm comes up empty. Though my response is delayed in comparison to his, I have more mobility, so I'm on my feet and on the way to the door, listening close for any signs of what else is going on.
More words follow, muffled, and I recognize Nate's voice.
It doesn't matter that I don't feel like their requisite two hours have passed; I throw open the door as quickly as I can without making an excessive amount of noise. Sure enough, Nate and Caleb are back, standing near Alexander in the hallway. My brothers' expressions are twisted, though Alexander seems conflicted by joining in with them and asking for clarification before doing anything drastic. His eyes find me, but I don't have the time to give him answers.
Because Nate and Caleb aren't worked up over nothing, and there's another person in the hallway. A woman I know, with streaks of gray in her otherwise dark hair, the whole pile of it twisted into an updo, forming crows' feet on her face, one of those wire-thin frames that make you wonder if the person is eating enough, a complexly patterned dress accentuated by the thin gold loops of jewelry hanging from her wrist, her neck, her ears. Somewhat I hadn't ever expected to see again, let alone here and now of all places and times.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" I ask, my voice running cold. Though I've been angry at Dad, it's a conflicting sort of fury, mingled with concern. When it comes to this woman—this bitch—that's not even on the table. She doesn't deserve anything other than my rage. Alexander catches my feelings and moves by my side, his expression hardening. "Didn't you get the message a decade ago? You're not welcome around our family anymore."
The woman sighs, manicured fingers tapping at one of her earrings with an almost bored expression on her face. "I'd hoped that growing up would afford you some maturity, Kirsten. It seems I was wrong." Hearing her say my name sends a shiver of disgust up my spine. "No wonder these two have given me such a rude reception. You certainly haven't been a good role model for them."
"Don't talk like this is Kir's fault!" Caleb says, his voice strong though I can see his knuckles whitening from how hard he's clutching to his sketchbook's spine. "How we respond to you has nothing to do with her. Where do you get off coming back around and acting like you didn't do anything wrong?"
Nate nods, swinging his arm forcefully to the side. "How did you even know to come here? Don't you have your own life to worry about?"
"I heard what happened, so I wanted to come and check up on your father? Is that so wrong?" Nate makes a low sound in his throat, and I catch another glimpse of gold—a thin band around her left ring finger. I feel sorry for whoever she roped into that. "I'm sure he'd be disappointed if he knew you were being so unhospitable." Her eyes wander to the open hospital door, and I have to resist the urge to slam it back shut, to keep her away. Just take the hint and leave already!
"Don't put words in Dad's mouth again," Caleb says, and I want to pull him into another hug, to remind him that he's amazing, my precious youngest brother. "We're handling this as a family matter. When he wants to have visitors, you can come by then."
The bitch herself raises an eyebrow, teased to a thin line. "Is that so? You sound so confident, but I'm willing to bet you're the one putting words into your father's mouth there, Cathleen."
Caleb grimaces at the sound of his deadname, and my carefully constructed patience can do but one thing.
It snaps.
[Author's Notes]
Apologies for a slight divergence from the usual update schedule! I had friends from out of state visit, plus got my copy of Pokemon Sword. I think it's pretty clear where my distraction came from. But the update is here, and the rest should all be on schedule from here on out!
Haha whoops I could have just done a short resolution but we have to add in more tension, whoops. I normally don't like to push issues like this too hard, and I especially don't think they should be used just for shock value. But once I started writing this conflict out, it seemed the character decided to be like that, and here we are.
Also, vocabulary lesson: if you're tired of people saying "I'm not transphobic because I'm not afraid of trans people," you can call them cissexist. It's the equivalent to other words like sexist and racist. (Heterosexist is the equivalent for homophobia. The more you know.)
*clears throat* With that out of the way, as a nonbinary folk, know that if you're trans or nonbinary or anything else, you're amazing and you deserve good things. Here's for some love.
Next week will continue on from where this cliffhanger left off, so I'll see you then and (hopefully) on time. Please look forward to it!
-Avi
[11.08.2019]
